


Longest Night

by ML Mead (moonlightmead)



Category: The Professionals
Genre: Christmas, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-04
Updated: 2014-01-04
Packaged: 2018-01-07 11:53:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,122
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1119518
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moonlightmead/pseuds/ML%20Mead
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Doyle realises what all that touching is about, and has no idea how to deal with it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Longest Night

**21st September 1979**  
  
"Jesus Christ, Bodie!" The words erupted out of him.  
  
"What?" Bodie raised an eyebrow – _the left_ , Doyle thought wildly, _why did I never realise it made him look so like the devil? Get thee behind—no, wait, not behind, not at all..._  
  
He tried to collect himself. "You actually mean it, don't you?"  
  
Bodie wasn't going to help him, he could see that.  
  
"Mean what?"  
  
Doyle shifted his stance. "All that..." He moved his arse out of the reach of Bodie's hands. " _That_."  
  
Why couldn't Bodie look embarrassed or something? It wasn't like _Doyle_ should feel awkward, surely? He intensified his glare. Bodie held his gaze without concern.  
  
"If you didn't like it, Ray, you've taken a bloody long time to realise it. And even longer to tell me." Exaggeratedly, he moved his hand further away. "But there you go. Better?"  
  
Despite himself, Doyle took a step forward. _Can't back down now._ "You fancy me. All that..." he gestured again, "You're copping a feel every time I turn around!"  
  
"Not every time, no. Credit me with some restraint." Bodie's leisurely tone was at odds with the tension around his eyes.  
  
Doyle didn't let it go. "This all a preliminary to something else, then? You working up to some kind of an offer?"  
  
Bodie straightened. "Not if you're not interested. Not denying who'd be my first choice. But there's plenty of others who might be my second."  
  
 _What? Who?_ asked Doyle's mind, instantly, with a panic he didn't care to analyse.  
  
Bodie took a step to the side and began to rummage through the storeroom shelves. _How can he just change the subject?_ As if hearing Doyle's thoughts, Bodie turned back. "Calm down, Ray. You're not interested. Fine. I understand. But if ever you change your mind, remember. Offer's still open."  
  
  
 **21st October 1979**  
  
School half-term about to start, funfairs on the common, and crowds of determined entertainment-seekers to scan. As they stalked through the fair, eyes peeled for Doyle's least favourite grass, Doyle was conscious of the two inches that separated them, the two inches that Bodie now bridged only from necessity. _Damn him!_ Doyle had never been more constantly aware of him. Before, he had relaxed into their shared world, their shared existence, the two of them working as one, their borders held in common, erected to keep others at bay. _And now... now?_ Now he had no idea what to think. Bodie had kept his word. On the job, he was as physical as ever, brushing past Doyle without a qualm, guiding Doyle's foot firmly into place on precarious ladders. Off the job, though, he was careful: glasses and mugs passed without a touch, injuries bandaged deftly, and Doyle waiting... waiting for their two worlds to rejoin. _Oh Bodie, what did I do?_  
  
Bodie nudged him, and a thrill shot through him.  
  
"Over there. Dodgems."  
  
Doyle shook his head. _This is his fault, not mine._ Isn't it? He cut sideways and sloped round to the back, to cut off Evans's escape. _Focus. Focus on the job._  
  
  
 **21st November 1979**  
  
Bodie still wasn't touching him without need. Nine weeks, and Doyle's heart was slowly being choked. If anything, the intensity between them had increased. Perhaps... Perhaps the constant connections had been a safe release. _Perhaps I misunderstood anyway. Perhaps he didn't really want that_. Now the touches were so few that every time Bodie slid past him in a narrow doorway, or helped him shift a heavy box, Doyle could practically feel the air between them buzzing. Ionised.  
  
"Penny for 'em."  
  
He jumped, and turned, snarling.  
  
Bodie reached towards him in conciliation. _Will he?_ Doyle strained to avoid tensing up. It made no difference. His partner made as if to pat him on both shoulders, but as always, now, pulling the movement at the last minute.  
  
 _Ah, Bodie, don't..._  
  
"Don't what?"  
  
He hadn't realised he had spoken aloud until he heard Bodie's question. _How do I answer this?_  
  
"You never..." he gestured. "Not any more."  
  
That eyebrow was raised again. "What?"  
  
Doyle shrugged uncomfortably. "What we talked about." _Please, Bodie, don't pretend you don't know what I'm talking about..._  
  
"Talked about? Would serve you right if I pretended I didn't know what you're talking about."  
  
 _Christ. Even now, even without touching my skin, you're still inside me, still feeling me in my head..._  
  
"You can't have it both ways, Ray." Bodie's voice was weary. "You can't complain I touch you with," he paused, "dubious intentions... and then complain I don't touch you at all."  
  
 _Don't make me feel like this._  
  
"You said you fancy me."  
  
"Mm. Actually, no."  
  
 _What?_  
  
His shock must have showed. Bodie grinned suddenly. "Oh, no, you're not off the hook. I do. But it was you who said it. I just told you you had nothing to worry about."  
  
 _I do worry. You said you fancied other people, too. What are you doing, Bodie? What are you doing with them? I nearly followed you the other night. I wanted to know what you meant. What you're doing with other people. Where you go. You shouldn't be doing it, not with..._  
  
"...with other people."  
  
Bodie's eyes narrowed. "You're not making a lot of sense here. Other people what? You appointing yourself my keeper? Not on, mate." He raised a cautionary hand. "Told you. Offer's still open. But I'm not some love-struck Mills and Boon reader, Ray. Not waiting for the right man. If he," _He? He, or me?_ "isn't interested, I'll take what I can get."  
  
  
 **21st December 1979**  
  
Dark days in November, bright lights in December. Doyle pasted a festive face on and endured, hating the light as much as the dark. _Nearly three months now. Back in September._ Just before the clocks go back, it had been. The days had been getting darker, the nights colder ever since. _I didn't do this._ This was the natural order of the seasons. Or maybe it was Bodie. _Not me._  
  
It was inevitable: light fades, vacuous party noises heighten. _It'll be alright after Christmas. In the New Year. When the day lengthens. When the warmth comes back. Ah, Bodie..._  
  
He eyed the Radio Times Christmas double issue morosely and abruptly plonked the Heineken down on the table.  
  
It didn't take him long to get to Bodie's flat. The lights were out. Bastard. _Why couldn't he wait for me? What is he doing?_ He rang the doorbell anyway, leaning on it, not caring.  
  
He knew what Bodie was doing, really. Bodie was drowning his sorrows, plunging his mouth to another man's. Bodie was prowling the streets of Soho, his soft predatory tread unnoticed until he wanted to be glimpsed. Bodie was–  
  
"Well, are you coming in or not?"  
  
Shock drained through him as Bodie opened the door. "Bodie?"  
  
"In the flesh." Bodie was patient. "Who were you expecting? I mean, this is my flat, but..."  
  
He kicked the draught excluder out of the way and opened the door wider. Warmth billowed out.  
  
"Come in."  
  
Inside the flat, Doyle slouched around, unable to sit at ease. Bodie watched. Eventually Doyle drew to a halt. Bodie waited.  
  
"Telly's crap again," offered Doyle.  
  
Bodie nodded acceptingly.  
  
"I mean–" Doyle plunged on. "Christmas and all."  
  
"Not Christmas yet," Bodie pointed out reasonably. He paused. "Although I suppose it counts as Yule. Shortest day today," he added as Doyle looked questioning. "Well, usually. Sometimes it's a day either side. It's a bastard in Scotland," an inconsequential addendum. "About three hours of daylight. If that."  
  
"I suppose." Doyle was in no mood to be educated on SAS and Paras exercises, which was undoubtedly how Bodie knew. Unless – _Oh god_ , had Bodie taken someone up there for some romantic retreat? _Bodie – stop making this hard._  
  
"Bodie..."  
  
"That's my name. Don't wear it out."

The playground jibe irritated him.  
  
"For Christ's sake, Bodie!" _Stop it, you're throwing barriers up everywhere!_  
  
"What, Ray? What?" Bodie's voice rose with irritation. He took a step forward. "You've been acting like a cat on hot bricks all month! Every time I look round, you're watching me. Every time I don't, I can feel you brooding. What the bloody hell is wrong with you?" He stepped closer, brought his hands up, achingly close to Doyle. _Ah yes, god, do it, go on..._  
  
His hands a fraction of an inch from Doyle's shoulders, Bodie turned away, scowling. _Fuck._ "If you've just come round to be miserable at me, because you've broken another bloody date, you can fuck off for once. I've had it to here. You've buggered my life up, it's only fair if yours is buggered up too."  
  
 _Oh shit._  
  
"Ah, shit, Bodie. Didn't mean that to do that."  
  
"No." Unforgiving.  
  
"Think we need to talk."  
  
"No."  
  
A thrill of shock. "No?"  
  
"What's to say?" Bodie threw himself into the tatty armchair, then almost immediately jerked up again. "You've turned up here, you want entertaining, you'll only moan if I go out... What gives you the right, Ray? I know what you want to _talk_ " – his voice added audible quotation marks – "about. You want me to give you some sort of absolution for all this. You want me to give you some sort of explanation. You want me to justify why you get to flaunt yourself and I get to watch and grit my teeth and keep my word and still you – you – feel the need to bang on and on about it. You want to explain you're 'not like that' – which, you sod, is a lie, I'm pretty sure of that, even if you won't admit it to yourself..."  
  
Bodie paused abruptly. "Well, go on. By this stage you've usually interrupted me about five times." He pursed his lips. "Here's your chance."  
  
Doyle was silent.  
  
 _It wasn't meant to be like this._  
  
"I..." He paused.  
  
 _Oh god. Think. Or do. Or something. You came all this way, you must have had a plan if you were expecting to find him in... Ah._  
  
"You're still in."  
  
"What?"  
  
"It's a Friday night. You told me you were onto 'a sure thing' earlier, and you're still here."  
  
Bodie heaved a sigh. "Yes, Ray. It's Christmas. Late licensing. We can have drinks even past eleven at night."  
  
Doyle glowered. "Shut up. You wanted me to talk."  
  
"I'm not sure I did," Bodie observed darkly. "I just expected you to."  
  
Doyle ignored that. "You're still here, even if you have half your... " his eyes flicked up and down Bodie. _Holy Christ. He is... scarily good-looking._ "...half your clubbing gear on."  
  
Bodie looked down at his short-sleeved t-shirt and tight trousers. "That's all of it. No point in putting too much on," sardonically, "It'll only be coming off again at some stage. And?"  
  
An image of Bodie flexing his arms as he pulled the top off over his head assailed Doyle. _Jesus._ He pressed on.  
  
"You're not going out. So I'm not interrupting. Good." Deliberately, he straightened.  
  
"You made me an offer once. You said it was still open."  
  
Bodie's eyes narrowed. "What?"  
  
It took all Doyle's strength not to wilt.  
  
"You said you were interested. In me."  
  
"Yes. And you told me where to go in no uncertain terms."  
  
Doyle pulled a face. "Okay, so I can be a bit slow. I... oh, for Christ's sake, Bodie!" Irritation was well to the fore now. "Do you have to make me say it? Cos I won't." _I will, but..._ "Come here."  
  
"If you're taking the piss..."  
  
"I'm not! Fuck it, I–!"  
  
A laugh interrupted him. "Have to say, Ray, your seduction technique is the worst I've ever seen. I assume that's what it's meant to be, anyway? I take it asking if the _offer's still open_ is your idea of sweet-talking me?"  
  
And then Bodie was up close to him, touching, and the teasing words didn't matter. He could feel Bodie's breath on his cheek, and Bodie's hand on the back of his neck and moving up to his head and pulling their heads together, and Bodie's groin – _Christ_ – pressed up against his, and Bodie's voice murmuring something about talking and actions and _is that what this is all about_ and it was suddenly all so _easy_ and so obvious...  
  
...and he found his hands were around Bodie's waist and reaching round to his arse, and pulling them tighter – _tighter_ – together, and they fitted together so well...  
  
...and then he realised that the shortest day meant it was the longest night, and that that was a good thing, because there were so many, many things to say and do, all through that night, and in fact it was all going to take a lot longer than one night...  
  
...but that night was where it began.

**Author's Note:**

> Written December 2012; published December 2013.


End file.
